Save it for a Rainy Day
by einsteinflygirl
Summary: "It should have been enough. We should have been enough." Song-fic.


**Save It For A Rainy Day**

 _it's not secret that lately there ain't no escape_

 _and that I've been waking up alone_

I worry about Sam. He's young for his age, always has been. Although, in some ways, he's the most mature of us all. He's definitely more adult that I am but that's not really saying much.

Sam's not immature, per se, he's innocent. He sees the best in people, whether it's there or not. He trusts. He believes in changing the world, reaching for the stars, refusing to ever surrender. To never compromise. Sam's idealistic. He's our moral compass. He still has hope.

All of which makes him easy to take advantage of, to hurt and to abuse. It doesn't help that he looks young. Young and pretty and everything a world class political is expected not to be. Sam gives as good as he gets but sometimes it just isn't enough.

Lisa took advantage of him. I've been able to understand what attracted them to each other in the first place. If it was really true that opposites attract then Sam and I would never have become friends, something which, I believe, would constitute criminal negligence on God's behalf.

Sam and Lisa never liked each other. At least, she never liked him. Sam loved Lisa. It wasn't enough and I don't think it ever could have been. She wasn't his type and he wasn't hers.

 _but today, the tears ain't gonna hit the floor_

 _cause the boat's in the bay and it's calling my name_

Lisa left Sam in the middle of his third week on the campaign. We were all sitting in a circle at the back of the bus or as close to a circle as we could manage, dicussing the govenor's schedule for the day, when Sam's cell phone rang. He stepped outside and when he returned, I knew something was wrong.

Back then, the others hardly knew him so they missed the signs at first. It soon became obvious, however, that he wasn't okay. He was quiet, withdrawn, moody. For the rest of the meeting, indeed the rest of the day, he was impossible to work with so we left him alone.

I found him, later that evening, curled up on one of the front seats of the bus, fast asleep. There were tear tracks on his cheeks and his arms were crossed protectively across his chest.

Not having the heart to wake him, I covered him with my coat and sat down beside him. I leant back and closed my eyes with the intention of sleeping for a couple of hours. When I woke up, there was daylight outside and CJ was standing over us with a smirk on her face.

"Hi, sleeping beauty."

I glared at her, rubbing my eyes with clenched fists, "Hi."

Sam stired beside me and sat up, blinking. He frowned as my coat slid off him and onto the floor of the bus. Then he looked at me and said, "Oh."

I smiled, "Morning."

"Morning."

He stil seemed a little out of it and I ruffled his hair, chucking at the annoyed glare he shot me through bloodshot eyes. His hair was standing up on end and he looked like a little boy, swamped as he was by an old Princeton hoodie and running shorts.

"Breakfast?" He asked sleepily.

"Not until you tell us what's going on." CJ said, sitting down in the seat in front of us, "We're worried about you and we're going to be far less annoying if you just tell us so we can help you deal with it or just move on."

I nodded emphatically but said nothing, giving Sam space to think, come to the conclusion that we were right and figure out what to say. There was a pause as he bit his lip and stared at us.

"You'd better get Toby as well then." He finally said with a resigned sigh.

Toby arrived minutes later, dragging his heels behind an increasingly frustrated CJ and then Sam told us. All the things Lisa had said, the hurtful words burning into Sam's heart like lasers. Cutting, branding, destroying. I've never wanted to hurt someone as much as I wanted to hurt Lisa Sherborn in that moment.

 _cause the sun's too bright, the sky's too blue_

 _beer's too cold to be thinking 'bout you_

Leo gave us a free weekend. We hadn't told him what was going on with Sam. He cares about his people too much not to let it distract him from the campaign. At this point, we couldn't afford for Leo to be distracted. I think maybe he noticed anyway.

There was no other reason for giving us that weekend off when he did. It was a busy time but we all needed the break. Sam needed it more. He had been quiet, too quiet, so much so that even the governer had noticed.

We were in California and Sam asked us if we wanted to join him, out on his boat. Me, CJ and Toby. I wasn't sure why he invited Toby. They hadn't quite fallen into that magical groove they have. Yet. They were still feeling each other out, neither quite sure if they liked what they saw.

Sam was intimidated by Toby's gruff exterior and sometimes overwhelming pessmism. Toby found Sam's evervescence and eternal optimism annoying. They couldn't have been more different and I still find it hard to see how they created the relationship they have now. Toby is closer to Sam than I am. I may have known him for longer, I may nominally be his best friend, but Toby really knows him and understands him in a way I simply cannot.

Still, Sam invited the three of us and so we went. There were other things that we could have been doing but we were all worried about him and besides, a day out on the ocean sounded calm and peaceful, two things that had been sorely lacking in our lives of late.

For his part, Sam became someone else, out on the water. He was calm, confident and bright, a far cry from the shadow that had been hanging over the campaign for the last week or so.

It was magical. The sun reflected off the waves, bright white so you had to fling up a hand to shield your eyes or risk sudden blindness. The ocean itself was a bright blue, almost unreal, like miles upon miles of gemstones, piled one on top of the other.

Sam is at home on the water in a way that I will never be. Clumsiness is not conducive to sailing. Sam isn't exactly coordinated but the moment he sets foot on a boat, all that changes. There's something graceful about the way he moves when he's adjusting the sails, controlling the tiller or even swabbing the decks. He relaxes and as he does so, he becomes someone else. A smile on his face as the wind ruffles through his hair, in control of his own destiny.

I know Sam spends a lot of time feeling as he can barely keep his head above water. As if he's swimming against a strong current and there are a hundred people clinging to his legs, pulling him back, slowing him down, inexorably dragging him into the murky depths of the ocean with no chance of survival.

A weight seemed lifted from his shoulders that day. It worries me that he only ever seems at home on the water as if he was never meant for a life on solid ground.

 _there'll be plenty of time for what ifs and whys,_

 _and how'd I let you get away_

I woke up in Sam's hotel room the next day, disorientated, my mouth dry and my head aching. Cursing my inability to hold my liquor, I levered myself upright and stumbled into the bathroom. Splashing water on my face, I heard the door creak open again and looked up to see Sam standing behind me.

He looked like a small boy, dressed as he was in an old Princeton t-shirt, grey sweatpants and white socks. His arms were wrapped around his middle and he was very obviously blinking back tears.

"J... Josh..." He stumbled over my name, a sob in his voice.

I moved forwards, unthinking, pulling him into a crushingly tight hug. He crumpled against me, the weight of his sadness suddenly overwhelming him.

It scared me a little, to be his anchor, the solid ground that wasn't going any where, that he could trust and that would never hurt him. I'm used to responsibility but this was different. This was huge. This was Sam.

Sam, my oldest and best friend. Sam, who was and forever will be the strongest person I know. Sam, one of the greatest minds of our generation.

Sam, whom I love more than anyone else in the whole world.

 _but the lying in bed all stuck in my head,_

 _is just gonna have to wait_

In that moment, it started to rain outside. At first it was just a small pattering sound on the window but soon it was loud, driving rain, pelting the glass with thick, treacle drops, landing with solid thuds. I wanted to laugh for a moment. That kind of pathetic fallacy just doesn't happen in real life.

Sam sniffed and that pulled me back into the moment. I manhandled him upright and helped him walk over to the window seat. I settled myself in the corner, then pulled him down and into my lap, both of us facing the outside.

"She said I left her. She's blaming this on me." He looked up at me, "Did I do this?"

"No."

"It should have been enough. _We_ should have been enough."

His voice cracked and he looked away, gazing out of the window at the street below. A bus drove past, then a hearse. Life carried on; and so did death.

"Sam... I know you don't want to hear this right now but... The way she sees the world is so radically different to the way you or I do that nothing would ever have been enough."

I felt Sam draw in a sharp breath; I knew I was walking across a tightrope, one mistake and my friendship with Sam would fall to its death.

"Not so easy to look at it that way from here, Josh."

"Yeah." I breathed out our standard reply.

"Thank you." He said, his voice quiet but suddenly steady.

I looked down at him in surprise, unsure of what I had done to earn his thanks. He sense my confusion and twisted in my arms to flash me a small, sad smile.

"For being here."

 _gonna take this heartbreak and tuck it away_

 _save it for a rainy day_

After a while, Sam pulled away. He hadn't cried but his breathing was shaky and he was scarily pale. I couldn't help but worry about him. We had breakfast with the others, everyone tiptoeing around Sam like he could snap at any moment. He disappeared for a while, after picking at his food and downing several large mugs of coffee, but it didn't take me long to track him down.

He was curled up like a cat on the back seat of the campaign bus. I figured it was something akin to his happy place, at least on dry land, a reminder that he was doing something that mattered, that he was achieveing something, that his life had meaning.

Not wanting to startle him, I made no pretense at stealth as I approached. He looked up at me, tears welling in those big, beautiful, oh-so-blue eyes.

"Sam?" I asked tentatively.

He just shook his head, his shoulders beginning to shake again, big, fat tears streaming down his face. Sam isn't an ugly crier. Then again, Sam isn't an ugly anything. Ever. Even in sorrow, Sam is beautiful, inside and out.

I sat down beside him, gathering him in my arms and letting him cry, silently, into my shoulder. I felt the damp seeping through my shirt, his tears hot and wet on the skin beneath. I didn't try to tell him that everything was okay because it wasn't. I just held him.

His breathing slowed and he fell asleep, just as the others arrived, all talking at speed, gesticulating wildly as they discussed numbers and strategies.

CJ and Toby sat in front of us, the former smiling down at Sam, brushing some wayward strands of hair out of his eyes. I've never told them how much I appreciate them accepting Sam as one of their own, allowing us to take even a small part in their decades long friendship.

Toby, for his part, gazed down at Sam, then shot me a small, relieved smile. Somehow, he knew that Sam was going to be okay, that he had let go of his sadness, that when he woke up it would be a new day, with new adventures and new challenges.

He knew that Sam would go on living, refusing to lose his passsion and idealism, never abandoning that stubborn streak that gets him into trouble and, more often than not, gets me out of it.

It was the first time I ever really saw Toby Zeigler smile. Even then, I knew that this was the start of something special. Before that moment, I hadn't even realised that Toby liked or cared about Sam.

At that moment, I started to believe that everything would finally be okay. Times would, of course, change, but for then, we were where we belonged.


End file.
